


Professional Impressions

by LovelyLadyLuck



Series: The Kallig Clan [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: First Day, First Impressions, Getting to know you, Pre-Relationship, but he thinks she's pretty, they'll get there eventually, wandering narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25485670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLadyLuck/pseuds/LovelyLadyLuck
Summary: Captain Malavai Quinn's musings and thoughts during his first morning serving on his lord's ship. He doesn't know what to expect, but he's determined to make a good impression.
Relationships: Malavai Quinn & Female Sith Warrior
Series: The Kallig Clan [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846168
Kudos: 11





	Professional Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Lucky!verse, where no one is straight and tragic backstories abound. This is one of an ongoing series of smaller fics that will follow SW Finlee, SI Danriss, SI Liara, and their companions on their adventures. I'm going to post these basically in the order I write them rather than anything regarding chronological order, but I will note at the top where the story falls within the game timeline.
> 
> Also I wrote this instead of sleeping so please forgive any mistakes or inconsistencies, I'll see about coming back to edit this once I regain my capacity for reason. Maybe.

The newly-minted Captain Quinn straightened the sleeves of his uniform jacket, ensuring that everything was exactly in line with regulations. It was his first day serving aboard his lord’s ship, and while he had clearly made a favorable impression on Balmorra, he also needed to demonstrate his capabilities in this new setting as well. Satisfied with his appearance, he exited the small refresher room attached to the bunkroom where he had slept. It was empty except for him, as Vette had taken up residence in the other bunkroom next to this one. When he had seen that there were separate bunks for men and women, he had secretly breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t been looking forward to sharing a room with the young twi’lek, for a myriad of reasons, not least of which was her apparent inability to be quiet. Sharing a room would only give her more opportunities to annoy him, and more fodder to do it with.

He checked his chrono, which read 0700. Most soldiers would be up by now, but this wasn’t a military ship or operation, he reminded himself. Sith live according to their own rules and whims, as was their right. As for Vette, well, she wasn’t a slave, but she wasn’t a soldier, either, and didn’t seem to have any solid role on the ship that would give him some indication of how to behave towards her. He made a note to ask Lord Irtaya about that later. In any case, he didn’t hear any footsteps or voices to indicate that either woman was awake and moving about. He hesitated for a moment, unsure about what to do next. Would he be overstepping if he left the bunkroom now and began moving about? He was stationed here now, yes, but his own role had not been solidified either. Lord Irtaya had given no indication of his role aboard the ship the previous night, and had told him that she’d give him a tour tomorrow. Today. 

Considering that he was most likely the only one awake yet on the ship, and not wanting to awaken either of the other inhabitants prematurely, Quinn decided that the best thing to do was to download the schematic and specs of the Fury-class interceptor to his datapad and familiarize himself with it. He’d never even seen one before, let alone flown or worked on one, and he was not going to embarrass himself in front of Lord Irtaya this early on by not knowing the difference between the lightspeed switch and the chair height controls.

He immersed himself in the schematics, and ceased to notice the passage of time until his concentration was interrupted by a loud thump. Startled out of his task, he checked his wrist chrono once more. 0736. Could that have been the sound of someone moving about?

He moved closer to the door, listening for any indication of what or who had caused the sound. He heard nothing for a long moment, until a very faint sound that might be footsteps. And then nothing again. The silence continued this time, and Quinn had almost decided that it was just his imagination, when the silence was broken again, this time by an unfamiliar male voice with a strangely stiff quality to it. He was unable to hear most of what the voice was saying, although he picked out a few words, including what he was sure was “mistress.”

Deciding that whoever the voice belonged to was most likely addressing Lord Irtaya, as someone calling Vette mistress seemed highly unlikely, he straightened his uniform one more time and exited the room, following the voice down the hallway. Sure enough, as he turned the corner where the voice was coming from, he did indeed find Lord Irtaya. The voice was coming from a droid made of a bluish metal, and it was currently jabbering on about some task it had completed and how it hoped it would please its mistress and move her to have mercy on him. Lord Irtaya, for her part, seemed to be successfully ignoring the droid’s chatter in favor of brewing a pot of caf. She was facing away from the door where he stood, and neither she nor the droid had noticed his presence yet. 

He took the opportunity to observe Lord Irtaya for a moment, in an attempt to slake his curiosity regarding her. He hadn’t worked with a Sith before her, not in a direct capacity, and she had defied every expectation he had had of her. Other Sith he had observed were temperamental and capricious, following no rules except their own desires, heedless of any consequences. He had seen soldiers brutally executed for paltry failures and imagined slights, with no recriminations for the death. Determined to avoid sharing this fate, he had scoured every report he could find regarding the satellite control station run by the resistance, and had compiled his briefing based on that, hoping it would be enough. However, instead of the twisted, ruined visage he had expected of this new, prized apprentice of Darth Baras, Lord Irtaya was the opposite. Her clothing was simple, though clearly armored and high quality, and unaugmented with any ornamentation. There were no baleful, malicious yellow eyes peering out from the hidden depths of a hooded robe, as seemed to be the fashion among many Sith. Lord Irtaya wore no robe, and her eyes were a pale grey, enormous in her narrow face. She had kept her hair covered in a dark headscarf, and wore no mask or makeup meant to inspire dread.

She was deadly, and he had never witnessed such power as she commanded in all his life. It was beautiful to witness, and left him awestruck and babbling ridiculous compliments at her when she returned. For a moment she had seemed to be flattered by his praise, almost blushing, but he quickly dismissed that notion. She was of course aware of her own incredible power, and didn’t need or want the blind praise of a disgraced soldier such as him.

What had truly shocked him when it came to Lord Irtaya, however, was not her deceptively normal and unassuming appearance, or even the incredible power it hid. Instead, what most shocked him was the way she conducted herself. She was at all times polite and attentive, treating him and the other soldiers she interacted with at Sobrik with respect and courtesy. More than that-she had listened to him, truly listened, and taken his advice. She had seemed to regard him with a certain higher favor than before after the first time, but he hadn’t been aware of how truly high her opinion of him was until she looked straight at the holo of Darth Baras, his distant master and one of the most influential Sith in the Empire, and called him exceptional. Invaluable. He had been so shocked at her praise that it was all he could do to thank Darth Baras for his promotion and his freedom before leaving his office in a daze. The idea of freedom, of finally leaving this force forsaken dustball after ten endless years was a heady thing, overwhelming. All of his options, new stations, ran through his head faster than he could process them. Where would he go? Not back to Ovech, as nice as that would be, to serve with his longtime friend again. Not anywhere under the influence of Broysc, and not a planetary base. He wanted to move, to travel, to see the stars stretching out in every direction he looked again. 

He had picked his head up from his hands, intending to get his datapad in order to look for mobile units in need of new blood, when his eyes fell on the face cloth on his desk. Lord Irtaya had used it while she was traveling between targets to protect her respiratory system from the dust clouds that were common this time of year. He had picked it up and smiled, his mind made up. He’d serve her, if she would allow him. He’d serve the Empire at her side, and it would be glorious. 

Quinn shook himself out of his reverie. It would not do for her to catch him mooning over her like some untried lovestruck ponce. She was his lord, and deserved better than that, and he was better than that as well. He stepped forward into what he guessed was the galley, judging by the presence of the caf percolator and a small table in the center of the room. He cleared his throat softly to attract her attention.

No response. He tried again, slightly louder this time, but still nothing, not even from the droid.

Throwing caution to the wind, he spoke quietly, “Good morning, my lord.”

Thankfully, she heard him this time, and turned to face him. She wore no makeup, as seemed to be her preference, and had dispensed with her armor in favor of dark trousers and soft soled boots, and a deep crimson sweater to ward off the chill of space travel. Her hair was uncovered, the headscarf gone, up in a simple twist at the back of her head. She was blonde, he observed with mild surprise, a shade so pale it might be called white were it not for the faintest hint of gold present when the light hit it just right.

She smiled politely at him, and returned his greeting. “Good morning, Captain. I hope you slept well. Did you have any problems with the bunkroom?”

He shook his head. “No, my lord, not at all. They are perfectly comfortable.”

She smiled again, and inclined her head at him. “Excellent, I’m glad. If you ever have any problems with the amenities, just inform Twovee, and he’ll take care of it, within reason.” she waved her hand in the direction of the droid, which had mercifully gone silent. “It’s the ship’s factocum droid, and it’s supposed to take care of things like that. Twoovee, this is Captain Quinn, he’ll be joining the crew of this ship.”

The droid immediately perked up and began to babble a greeting at him, which thankfully was cut short with a word from Lord Irtaya. Another command from her had the droid trundling off to do some menial task, leaving him alone with the Sith.

“Caf, Captain? It’s quality stuff, not the swill they served in the cantina at Sobrik.” she offered.

“Yes, thank you, my lord.” He stuttered out, baffled by the offer. She had poured it before he could object to her performing such a task for him, and handed him a mug full of the steaming liquid. He could tell by the scent and the texture that it was indeed high quality caf, far higher than he had ever bought for himself when he still had the opportunity.

“There’s creamer in the cooling unit if you’d like some, and there’s sweetener around here somewhere, but Vette seems to have once again put it in a new place, so you’ll have to search for it if you want any.” she informed him, pouring another mug for herself and reaching for the creamer.

“Thank you, my lord, but I take it black.” he said quietly, watching her stir the creamer in with a small spoon, before setting it down on the counter and breathing in the steam from her drink, cupping the mug with both hands.

Realizing he was staring at her again, he quickly took a gulp of his caf, and immediately froze as the hot liquid hit his tongue. The flavor was rich and deep, slightly nutty, and with no hint of bitterness. He closed his eyes to savor it for a moment, and when he opened them again he saw Lord Irtaya watching him over her mug with that same small smile on her face.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” 

“It’s excellent, my lord. You were right, by far better than Sobrik’s.”

She nodded, and then turned her attention to her mug, savoring the flavor herself. He watched her as discreetly as he could, fascinated. She was Sith, with all the privileges and advantages that afforded her, and if Balmorra was any indication, she was exceptionally powerful, destined for something great. And yet, she seemed...not normal, but the way she treated him and the other soldiers was respectful and dignified. And now, here she was, drinking caf with him, having even poured his cup, as if it was nothing.

He continued to observe her as he drank his caf, carefully trying to keep her from noticing, and unaware that she was doing the same to him. They stood in silence for a few more minutes, until a quiet chirp from his wrist chrono broke the silence. At her raised eyebrow, he quickly explained, “It marks 0745, to warn me for my shift starting at 0800.”

She nodded her understanding, and turned to the sink to rinse her now-empty mug. “In that case, Captain, why don’t I give you that tour of the ship I promised last night, and we can discuss just what your role and duties will be going forward?”

He nodded his assent, and rinsed his own mug, replacing it in the cabinet beside hers. She cleared her throat as he turned to her, brushing her palms off against her sweater. “This, obviously, is the galley. Bowls, plates, mugs, cups and the like are in these cabinets, and cutlery is in that drawer. Cooking implements such as pots and pans are in that cabinet, and there’s towels in that drawer. I’m not going to enforce set meal times or group meals, so you are free to do as you wish in that regard. When it comes to food, I’m afraid that’s quite limited, mostly ration bars and instant packages. I can’t cook, and Vette can’t either, so if you want something real you’ll have to cook it yourself, which you are free to do.” she informed him, pointing to various places in the tiny galley.

As they walked down the hallway, she pointed out her bedroom and the conference room, before they entered the main central room of the ship. It had a lounge in one corner, outfitted with an entertainment holo, and a large holocommunicator in the center. She showed him the medbay, which looked suspiciously unused; an indicator that either she never got injured, which seemed unlikely even given her power and skill, or an indicator that she hadn’t possessed the ship for long enough to have need of it.

They toured speedily through the rest of the ship, and lastly ended up on the bridge. The bridge was slightly separated from the rest of the ship, and they had entered through a short curved hallway. It felt more separated than the other rooms had, and he suspected that if the bridge door was closed they would be totally inaccessible to anyone else.

He took a moment to survey the bridge, and looked over the controls to the ship, relieved when he saw that they were indeed the ones from the schematic he had studied. He turned to face Lord Irtaya, who had stayed by the entrance, and for a moment his breath caught in his throat. She was standing in the light of the swirling galaxy map, and the light from the false stars moved slowly across her face and hair. She seemed to softly glow in the gentle light, and he was completely entranced.

It only lasted a moment, though, as he shook himself free when she turned her head to speak to him again. “Well, Captain, what do you think? Do you have any questions I can answer?” 

“This is an exceptional ship, my lord, and I am eager to begin my service here.” he paused for a moment then, before asking “My lord, forgive me if I am presumptuous, but what is to be my role on this ship? My duties and responsibilities?”

She nodded, and indicated for him to sit down in the pilot’s chair. He sank slowly into the seat, savoring the feel of the leatheris beneath him. She settled in the copilot’s seat and turned to face him. The chair was too high for her, he noted, only the very toes of her boots could touch the floor, and if her feet were bare they probably wouldn’t reach at all. His own feet were solidly on the floor, and it suddenly occurred to him that if their chairs were the same height, that meant he was nearly a full head taller than her. He wondered vaguely why he hadn’t noticed before if that was indeed the case.

She leaned forward in her chair, fingers steepled in front of her face as she studied him. Several long heartbeats filled with silence, and then she spoke. “Now, Captain, your role here. You said you’re a pilot, crack shot, and strategist. You have more than proven your skill in strategy, and you’ll get the chance to demonstrate your piloting and fighting skills quite soon. Before we go further, do you have any other relevant skills I should know of?”

“Not...exactly, my lord. I had at one point begun to train to be a field medic, but due to circumstances outside my own control I was unable to complete the training and receive my certification. However, I continued to learn in an unofficial capacity, and I’m confident that if I were to take the certification exam I would pass.” He told her.

She nodded, seeming pleased. “Excellent, I suspect we’ll be making ample use of your medical skills, Captain, as neither Vette nor myself have any of our own. I’ll see about getting the qualification exam scheduled for you so you can get the official certification, but that could take a while, given the rather roving nature of this assignment.” 

She straightened in her chair, and he straightened unconsciously as well, despite not being the one leaning. “Now, as for your official role...it’s only you, Vette, and myself right now, but as we continue there will most likely be other new crew members who join us, or maybe I’ll get an apprentice of my own. In which case, we’ll need an actual command structure outside of ‘I’m in charge’. A chain of command.” he nodded his understanding. “It’s not really necessary at this point, but for the sake of things moving smoothly and without argument in the future, I’d like to make it clear now, so it’s already in place when the crew expands.” 

He nodded his understanding again. What she said is perfectly rational, and she’s quite correct. It’s far easier for new team members to adjust themselves to a command structure that’s already in place, rather than trying to create and enforce one on an established team.

She smiled her small smile again, mouth closed, only the edges of her lips slightly upturned. “Well then, Captain, I’d like to officially extend my request that you take the position of my second in command. Should you accept, you’ll be tasked with doing typical second-in-command tasks, as well as serving as pilot and medic for the crew. Should something happen to me, command would revert to you. So what do you say?”

The bridge was silent for a moment as Quinn processed what had just happened. This was a completely unexpected development, and far more than he had ever dared dream. There was only one answer he could give.

He stood and bowed to her, his right arm crossed against his chest with his closed fist resting on his opposite shoulder in a traditional show of deep respect and regard, one he had never given before. “My lord, I am honored to accept your request. I swear I will serve you to the best of my ability, and you shall not be disappointed.”

Lord Irtaya smiled again, this one just a hair larger than the last ones. “I have no doubts about you, Quinn. I have every confidence that you are the correct man for the job.” he flushed red with embarrassment at her praise, the slight tingle of unease in his stomach quelled by her easy confidence in him. 

“I’ll leave you to become familiar with the ship on your own, I have some work to do. But, before I go, there is one more request I wish to make of you, Captain.”

“Of course, Lord Irtaya, anything.”

Was it just his imagination, or did she tense slightly when he called her that?

“Going forward, I’d prefer it if you would address me using the title lady, rather than lord. I’m...more comfortable being addressed that way.”

He stared at her in shock for a moment, confused at this request. Very few Sith women used the title of Lady anymore, the practice generally being restricted to those who were members of a noble house, or occasionally as an informal title for private use amongst trusted associates. But never in public, as she seemed to be requesting. 

“Certainly, my lady, if you wish it...do you wish for me to do so in public as well?” he questioned cautiously, attempting to discern the reason behind this request.

“Yes, in public too. Whenever you would address me as lord, I want you to call me lady instead. Please.” 

Her final “please” was hardly a whisper, slipping out under an exhale. For only a second, she looked almost desperate, her fathomless grey eyes pleading with him to acquiesce. It made her look so much younger than she normally seemed, and he wondered wildly how old she really was. But whether he had really seen her make that expression, or if it was simply a figment conjured by his imagination, he could refuse her nothing. “Of course, my lady, I will address you however you prefer. I...hope I did not offend you before this when I addressed you as lord?”

She shook her head, and reassured him, “I took no offense at all, you were only doing what is considered proper. I only decided for certain to use the title of lady again last night. Don’t worry.”

He smiled and gave her a shallow bow, which she returned before excusing herself to tend to her own duties, leaving him to his. He walked to the pilot’s chair and sat again, and took the opportunity to adjust the seat slightly higher. He ran his gloved hands over the controls, and looked out through the viewscreen to the swirling void of hyperspace. He grinned to himself.

He felt alive again.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to life, Quinn!
> 
> And there's absolutely nothing going to happen between them. Nothing. Flirting with your boss is wrong. Everyone knows that.
> 
> Just because he thinks she's pretty it doesn't mean anything's going to happen.
> 
> ;)


End file.
